


Don't Let the Scientist Cook

by Amydiddle



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Actions that are meant to be nice going wrong, Ford Can't Cook, Gen, Good Brother Grunkle Ford, How he does chemistry is a mystery, Sick Character, Sickfic, Teenage Stan Twins, The Stans are at it again, gold star for effort Stanford, just a minor cold, nothing to be worried about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7892641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amydiddle/pseuds/Amydiddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan gets sick. Ford tries his hand at making his twin feel better. Things don't really do as planned and in the very near future a house rule will be not leave the twins home alone; even if they are about to turn seventeen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let the Scientist Cook

**Author's Note:**

> Based off http://kerolunaticat.tumblr.com/post/126889711688

Stanley Pines wouldn’t say he was a bitter human being. He did have moments where he cursed out his teachers in his head when they gave him too much homework or grumbled when he and his brother had to walk home in the rainy New Jersey weather. At the moment though he was very bitter and hating on the world. 

It was the very fact that they had been walking home in the rain that landed him curled up on his bunk under a cozy blanket, sneezing his head off with his twin no where to be seen. 

The familiar tickle started to irritate his nose making his face curl as it prepared for a sneeze. The sneeze jolting his body before he could grab a tissue to catch whatever came out with the force.

Stan groaned, a disgusted shiver running down his spine at what had come out of his nose. His hands beginning to blindly search for the tissue box that should have been on the floor next to him. The object he had been searching for landing on his chest surprised him. The teenager looking up to find his identical twin standing over him with a concerned frown surprised him more. 

“You feeling any better?” Stanford asked, uncrossing his arms so he seemed a little more relaxed then he actually was. 

Stan watched the six fingered hands of his brother twitch nervously, a warm spot appearing in his chest knowing his twin was worried about him. He used the wiping of his face and blowing his nose to hide the smile that wanted to appear. 

“Fine,” He grunted out, throwing the now used tissue across the room to where their trash can was. The tissue not making it fully and landing on the floor next to the can. 

Ford’s frown deepened, “You don’t look fine.” 

Stan pulled the blanket up more, shivering at the imaginary cold his body was making him feel. 

“Sixer, I’m fine. Looking fine and feeling fine are two totally different things sometimes.” Stan explained this concept in what he hoped was a casual tone, though it was broken whenever he stopped to prevent his nose from running. 

Stanford still wasn’t too convinced, taking the time to walk over and put the fallen tissue in the trash before moving the bin closer to the bottom bunk. 

“I still don’t believe that you are fine as you claim to be, I think you are just saying that like you always do.” 

“Sharp as ever, Ford,” Stanley grumbled as he rolled over so his back was towards his brother. He wasn’t in the mood to come up with a clever come back. 

The action only seemed to get a response Stan wasn’t expecting. A cold hand on his shoulder rolling him back over and a hand on his forehead feeling for the heat of the fever. 

“You are burning up,” Ford muttered as he pulled his hand back from his twin’s confused face. “I’m going to make you some of Ma’s special recipe, always seems to help.”

“You’re-” Stan was cut off by a sneeze, luckily catching this one in a tissue. Ford was already at the door to their room when he got his voice back. 

“You’re going to make? Why not get Ma to?” 

Stanford stopped at the door and looked back at his twin, “She went with Dad to his meeting or something. She came in and told you she was leaving about an hour ago, remember?” 

Stan blinked, searching his fevered memory for some recollection of his mother coming in and telling him that she was leaving. He remembered a voice but couldn’t remember the exact words, the medication having dragged him down. 

“No, but if you are cooking I am going to help you.” 

“No, I got this. You need to rest.”

Stan moved to sit up but was stopped by the verbal protest. With a pout, he laid back down and stared up at the bottom of the upper bunk. 

“Fine, but if it tastes like shit I am strangling you.” 

“Your nose is clogged, you will barely be able to taste,” Ford shot back with a grin; ducking out of the room just as Stan threw a rubber ball at his head. 

The toy bounced off the door and went flying around the small room. Stan shouting in distress and hiding his head under the blanket just as the small rubber ball came flying towards him. He groaned when he bounced off the wall and onto his shoulder before rolling off the bed. How was it that these things liked to happen to him? 

Though the event with the ball did help him find a warm and comfortable spot on his bed, helping him doze off to fight against the cold. When he woke up due to his sinuses rebelling against him so he felt he was suffocating, he briefly wondered why the world was a muted red.

Stanley looked around the muted red world, realizing that there was nothing in this world before he figured out he was under the blanket and that may also have contributed to the fact that he felt light headed and suffocated. He pushed the blanket off his face and gasped at the cool air of his bedroom; brown eyes darting around the empty space as he tried to get his barrings. 

His mind went to Ford, thinking of the last time he had seen his brother he had said he was going to try and cook. Seeing as there was no food on the night stand, and he couldn’t smell any smoke thanks to his stuffed up nose the logical choice was to get up and walk down the hall to the kitchen. 

With a small groan, Stanley got up out of bed; the red blanket being held tightly around his shoulders. His head swam at the new angle but he fought the feeling to go towards the door and then down the hallway. The mutters of his brother coming into ear shot just before he turned into the kitchen.

“So, should I add cinnamon or pepper?” Ford’s voice asked its self as Stanley trudged his way into the kitchen to see Ford’s back. The teen frowning as he observed what Stan could only guess to be the cinnamon and the pepper.

“Maybe both?” Ford continued to mutter, unaware of his new audience. “Yeah Both!” 

“Hey,” Stan said, getting his twin’s attention. Stanford turning around in surprise, not expecting Stan to be up and walking around. 

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Stanley asked, sniffling as some snot dared to try and escape his nose. 

“What? No,” Ford frowned, crossing his arms. “You should be resting!” 

Moving his hands onto his hips, he sent a reassuring smile towards his brother. “Don’t worry, I’ve got everything under control.” 

Stanley frowned, pretty sure his stuffed up nose was smelling smoke but it wasn’t too reliable. He silently wished he had dug his glasses out from where he had buried them in the desk drawer so he could see a little better and get the sense if or if not he should be worried about his brother’s cooking skills. 

Shuffling a little where he stood he let out a sigh, “Alright, if you are sure.” 

“I am, now back to bed with you.” Ford said, making a shooing motion.

Stanley rolled his eyes, turning around and heading for the living room instead of the hallway. The couch wasn’t as comfortable as his bed but he really couldn’t see himself walking all the way back; he had been drained the energy he had in his room from the short distance journey. He laid down on the old couch and curled up facing the back. 

Stan could have sworn he had only closed his eyes for a second before he was awoken by the shrill noise of a fire alarm and his brother running out of the kitchen towards him. 

“Stanley!” Stanford moved frantically to pull his drowsy twin up and onto his feet. “We have to get out, I couldn’t contain the blase.” 

“Blase?” Stanley muttered, leaning on Ford slightly as they moved towards the stairs that lead down into the pawn shop. Ford moving fast as he could as he led his fevered and still slightly asleep twin brother out of the home and through the maze of shelves of the pawn shop. 

Stan was fully awake when they got out into the crisp air of their beach side town; the wind acting as a slap in the face to his senses and mind. He freed a hand from the blanket still clutched around him and rubbed his eyes; turning when they got across the street to stare at what was their home. 

The reds and oranges were peaking out from the window of where their kitchen was located, making Stan’s mouth drop before he shut it again. A fire engine could be heard in the distance; the only explanation for it arriving so soon was one of their neighbors had called. 

A breeze blew between them as they watched the fire’s colors get brighter making Stan shiver and pull his blanket closer. 

“How did you-” he began to ask, not even looking at Stanford. 

“I don’t know,” Ford said numbly, shaking his head while not breaking eye contact with the sight before him. 

Silence stretched between them as the fire men arrived and hurried to get the flames doused before they could spread even more. People that lived and worked around the Pawn shop starting to convene and watch the scene. 

Stanley sneezed, catching it in his blanket. He didn’t want to say what he was thinking but the question had to be asked. 

“What are you doing to tell dad?” 

This time, Stanford did look at him. Lost eyes behind smudged glasses; he really hadn’t thought of that. Stan sighed heavily, earning him a coughing fit. Already deciding in his head he would take responsibility for this incident somehow without telling Ford. After all, it was him getting sick that had led to this whole fiasco. 


End file.
